Dammit do I ever get tired of it sometimes, better than the other option: quitting. I've made a choice to cease watching disease and age in the rear view mirror creeping up on me. Time is too precious, I'm focusing my sights ahead, I'm going to beat the clock.
For over a month, I've been piddling around with a few weights on my back porch. Plus, I LOVED and gained knowledge from my sugar free month. Sure, I've had chocolate and some of my own cakes since the challenge ended, but I'm still not putting sugar in my coffee, honey in my tea or jam on my peanut butter toast. I'm committed to making this a permanent change. The sustained energy I have now is like a drug.
To treat myself, I joined a gym. $20 a month, no contract, located in this guy's backyard.
Quiet, all the free weights I could want, open 24 hours, I have the place to myself late in the evenings. So what if there's a jet ski parked next to the squat rack and there's a general overuse of Duck Tape for repairs.
I love my little hole in the wall hideaway.
Also quite smitten with my other tool at combating decrepitude: Cross Fit gym in Columbus.
MMA fighter gives Muay Thai lessons in the evenings. This is boxing on steroids. Tonight, I was the only student. A one hour private lesson with all the accoutrements of defensive gear so I could learn to give and take body shots, kicks and my new favorite: elbow strikes.
Was I whining that I was getting tired of fighting??? I hope you weren't paying attention, because I'm already over it. I love to fight, it's what I do.
You can't pick and choose when and where struggle and strife will meet you, best bet is to stay amped up and ready to enjoy a good brawl.
To heighten preparedness, Dax is my cardio coach. Which means I eat dirt on a semi regular basis. We try to get out every day for 5 mi run or bike rides form hell, currently averaging 5 days a week, but aiming for 7.
Life ain't for sissies, strap on a helmet and get out there and grab it by the horns. It's the F@#! best high out there.